First off, I just want to say that this is based on a RP me and my friend Stormblue have been playing recently on Skype. While we've been playing, I suggested to her that we write this down so that others can see what we've been up to and experience a whole new world where everything we know and love is on the verge of destruction.

Here is the summary for the story:

When Optimus Prime is killed by an unexpected Decepticon attack, a small group of Autobots - led by Prime's only son - heads down into the underground tunnels to seek shelter. But none of them expected to find a long lost tribe of non-transforming robots led by one of the last of the Original Thirteen. As Cybetron is slowly being taken over by Megatron and his Decepticon forces, the new Prime is forced to take leadership and lead his people to freedom, and take back Cybetron once and for all. But does he have what it takes to lead the Autobots, who are now on the verge of extinction?

He was held at gunpoint, his optics wide with fear as Megatron tightened his grip on his throat and the rough tap of the fusion cannon against his face. Regulus could make out the form of Optimus Prime standing with his gun raised, his facial expression unreadable, but Regulus could sense that he was struggling to choose between saving his only metal and energon.

"What's it going to be, Prime?" Megatron sneered, his voice cold as he suddenly pointed the cannon at Regulus's side. "Your son or your life?"

"Let him go, Megatron!" Optimus shouted. "He has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, but he has everything to do with our conflict," Megatron replied, smirking. "For instance, he is your son, correct?"

Optimus Prime didn't respond, but Regulus knew he was struggling with his inner self, trying to choose between saving his only son and destroying his own nemesis once and for all. He could hear explosions, their bright colours illuminating the frames as the Autobots cried out in agony as they died and their sparks extinguished.

Then... slowly, Optimus lowered his ion cannon.

"No!" Regulus screamed as Megatron released a blast in his father's direction.

The distant sound of explosions quietened down as the small group of Autobots raced down the tunnels. Their heavy breathing was loud and laboured as tried desperately to escape any Decepticons who may have attempted to follow them down here. Surrounding them was nothing but rock and steel, layered with hints of adamant that sparkled slightly, lighting their way and giving them some form of guidance.

The young mech sighed with relief as he and the rest of the survivors gathered together. Behind Regulus, he could make out the silver and red form of Kalila, who was leaning against a wall and breathing heavily. He could even see his two other best friends Sirius and Arcturex, their frames barely noticeable in the dim darkness of the chamber. Regulus knew they were all worn out from their desperate escape from the surface, but they had to press onwards. He could make out the sounds of heavy explosions from up above and the distant screams of mechs and femmes, young and old, dying as their sparks extinguished.

He trembled slightly, desperate for comfort.

He could still remember the lifeless body of Optimus Prime lying dead on the ground right before his optics, his exposed spark pulsing faintly before it died away into nothingness. He had tried to reach for the Matrix, but the next explosion forced him to flee and gather as much of the survivors as he possibly could. Using his knowledge of the underground tunnels, he had led the survivors down as deep as they could go. Now they were alone and in desperate need of shelter. But they couldn't stop now, not with all the killing going on out there.

He glanced over at Kalila for a moment before his gaze sadly settled on the rest of the survivors and his other friends. What was to happen to them now that they had nowhere else to go?

In their fleeing, many of them failed to notice that the further down they travelled, more and more strange markings appeared on the walls of the tunnels. Almost as if they were road markers meant to aid in navigation and clearly someone besides Regulus and his companions were down here. Though with the explosions above, there weren't any signs of life at the moment... but with the faint lights up ahead, which would soon change.

When he regained his breath, Regulus glanced around at the strange markings on the walls and the faint glowing of the light at the end of the tunnel. Knowing that he had little choice in the matter if he and his companions were to survive despite his fears for their safety, he motioned to them to follow him.

Kalila, Sirius and Arcturex did not hesitate to follow him, trusting him completely.

The exhausted mechs and femmes stood up and followed after him and his friends as they walked down the passageway, glancing at the unusual looking things carved in the walls. They were things they had obviously never even seen before in their lifetime.

The tunnel soon opened up to a massive chamber that was illuminated by massive bubbling pools of energon that gave the entire chamber enormous amounts of light, almost like as if it were daylight on the inside and the sun had decided to cast its warm glow within.

Regulus halted the group and took a few shaky steps forward, his optics searching cautiously as he went to investigate their surroundings.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

"There is," a heavily accented voice answered him from the dark, body partly lit by four bright lights, one for each hand as she slowly approached the group. "And you are refugees escaping from the war above as we have."

Regulus jumped nervously as the figure approached from right in front of him. He chewed his bottom lip, doing his best to remain as calm as possible, but he was failing miserably. "Yes..." he said softly. "We are."

"Then please... make yourselves at home here. My people are wary of strangers, but do not judge based on faction. If you need help, we will gladly give it," the voice's owner said, placing the lights up on the walls and activated others.

She was not a transformer though. Four arms, elongated legs, and a blindfold over where her optics should be, the old femme was indeed something most people would have been afraid of.

Regulus nodded and motioned to the others to come forward.

Slowly, they emerged from the tunnel's entrance and nervously approached the strangers. Strangely, Kalila walked up from behind Regulus and gently massaged his shoulders. All the tension and nervousness left him, but he was still nervous of the unusual robots that lay out before him. Sighing, he removed himself from Kalila's hands and carefully approached the old femme.

"We need all the help we can get," he said to the old femme. "Our leader was slaughtered by the Decepticons. They attacked without warning and now we're being hunted down like cyber rats."

"Yes, I know Regulus... Primus has felt Prime's death, as have I..." she said with a heavy spark. "My deepest sympathies go out to you... son of Optimus."

Regulus dropped his jaw in response. "How... how did you know who I was and what I am?"

"I have always known. While I lack optics, I do have a very deep... connection to Primus. My history and those of my people are long, dear Regulus, but know this: you do not take this heavy burden alone. I too was once a Prime," she spoke softly, offering to show the strangers around the tunnels.

Regulus looked around at each of the strangers, his own optics widening with surprise. "You were... once a Prime?" he asked. "If you were once a Prime, then that means I'm still alone. What can I do to help my people? My father tried to prepare me for leadership, but I couldn't... I didn't want to bear the burden. I chose to live a life of my own, get out and do my own thing. If I am the next Prime in line..."

"That depends on what the Matrix chooses I'm afraid..." the old femme sighed softly. "But yes, I was one of the many who ruled Cybertron before the time of the First Great War, before The Fallen even. But I have never been the kind of Prime Cybertron needed. You see... the entire reason these people exist is because they were like-minded and wished to withdraw from the war. So we retreated down here and become as we are. Losing alt modes, resembling animals, even taming some of the wildlife. We gave up a life of technology and lived as a native organic world," she explained.

"As for helping your people... do as I did long ago. Lead them to where you believe they need to be led."

"But," said Regulus as he and the others followed after the femme, "I don't know how. I've never listened to my father. He gave up trying to get me to follow in his footsteps, but he never stopped loving me and was proud of the fact that I was his son." He glanced back at each of the mechs and femmes behind him. "If... I lead them, then I'll only end up leading them to their deaths."

"It does not matter how you go about your journey, my dear Prince..." the old femme replied gently. "But simply if you have the willingness to even try. I was... terribly afraid at first, when I went underground with my followers. War was at our heels, The Fallen, having slain my brothers and sisters... I almost gave in and fled the planet, but I did not. I knew that I had people to protect and I pushed on despite the fear. You need to learn if you are willing to do the same."

"Then how can I learn?" Regulus asked. "I pushed away my father when he desperately wanted me to take the Matrix. He obviously knew something was going to happen, and yet, I was blinded by my own youth. To be independent. I let him down..."

"Think about this, dear Prince... does my story seem familiar to you?" she smiled softly, drumming all twenty of her fingers. "Your current situation is not so different from mine, yes?"

Regulus blinked his optics and nodded slightly when he realised what she said was true. He was now in the same predicament as the old femme. But he was not like her. He didn't he had what it took to lead his people against the new war... for their freedom. What could he do? He would end up choosing choices that would make them lose their lives or result in their capture.

He turned away, ashamed.

"I don't deserve the title of Prime. The Matrix was destroyed when they put down my father's body. For all I know, the Decepticons could've captured it or they could've destroyed it by their own hands."

"The Matrix," said the old femme, "can never be destroyed, nor can it be wielded by anyone other than the chosen Prime. You may doubt yourself, my Prince, but your father did the same countless times during his enduring leadership. We all did. In fact, you can almost say we can't be Prime without self-doubt."

She closed her optics for a moment, as though she was listening to some unheard voice in the wind, before opening them again. She then stopped dead in front of a boiling energon pool, it's pure essence and scent seemed to awaken the survivors' sensors.

"But for now, my Prince and his people must rest and enjoy a moment of peace. The energon you see here is pure and comes from the slowly healing core of Cybertron. It should improve your health, so drink til your spark is content."

Regulus watched as the mechs and femmes quickly made their way towards the pools and drank their fill, but the young mech closed his optics and headed in the opposite direction. Instead, he headed away from the group and sat down alone on a rock, his head bowed and lost in his own thoughts.

Kalila watched her friend sadly. She felt sorry for Regulus. With the secrets he told her of his desperate need to get out of his father's shadow to be himself, she knew that he also felt guilty for not listening to his father sooner. She glanced at the others, trying to decide whether or not she should comfort her friend or drink just to satisfy her thirst and hunger. Chewing her bottom lip, she decided it was best that she leave him be. When he was in these kinds of depressing moods, she knew that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Sighing, she sat down with Sirius and Arcturex and drank what she could. But every now and then, she would shoot glances over at her friend, praying to Primus that Regulus would snap out of his depression and confusion soon.

The old Prime rose from her throne, gathering a bowl in one arm and scooping up some energon, then took it over to the young mech.

"Drink, my Prince," she cooed. "If you cannot rely upon yourself to draw your strength, then take it from the love your people have for you. It is the path I took during these dark times, and it worked wonderfully."

She placed the bowl beside him.

"I am Rifiki by the way, formally Gia Prime. But my people call me Na'vi, which in our language means mother," she chuckled. "Sadly, I have never had the joy of having my own children. I was pregnant a few times, but was never able to carry any to term."

Regulus glanced at the bowl, but he refused to take it. How could he drink something so pure when all he felt was shame? Slowly, his spark demanded that he take the bowl to help him regain his strength. He didn't realise just how low on energy he was until now. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the bowl and took a small sip. But when he glanced down at his hands, he never realised just how dirty he was from the fight up above, his insides were as damaged as he looked. He didn't think he would ever be able to anything right for his people. Once again, shame crept into his head. He had never felt so guilty in his entire life.

He glanced at her once he had finished his first sip, but the guilt never left him.

"Let the guilt sit a while if you must," Rifiki said. "Time is on your side." She then placed all four hands on his shoulders in a comforting manner.

The young mech felt his shoulders sag. Already the burden was starting to weigh heavily upon his shoulders. But then, without warning, tears streamed down his optics. He tried to wipe them away, but they kept on falling faster like an energon-fall. He tried to turn away and hide his face behind a hand, his lips trembling.

"Shhh," hushed the old femme. "There is no weakness in showing emotion. That is the first lesson learned, Prince." Gently she wiped away the tears with two hands, the others still gripping his shoulders.

Without thinking, he turned and burrowed his head into her chest. "I let him down," he whimpered. "I let them all down. Just... just when I thought I was going to live a normal life, hopefully be free from my father, everything comes crashing down like a pile of metal."

"But I have no family left..." Regulus cried. "My mother died sparking me, and now... now I am alone."

"You have friends and many followers. You have your father's spark guiding you as well."

"Friends? Followers?" the young mech questioned. "They'll all die trying to fight against something we haven't seen in Primus who knows how long. The last Great War was over three thousand years ago." He turned away again, sipping the bowl.

Regulus tried to listen, but the sounds seem to fall on deaf audios. However, he could feel something in the air... something he had never heard before. He tried to feel the vibrations in the air, tried to ignore it too, but nothing could be ignored.

"I still don't think I can do it," he said sadly. "I might be a Prime by energon, but I will never be something my father once was."

"He hears all, sees all. He is the ground upon in which we stand. How can he not hear every one of his children when he is everything?"

Regulus closed his optics, thinking long and hard. He then opened his optics again, glancing at the old femme with sad optics. "If Primus is so powerful," he said, "then why can't He bring back my father? If He has the power to take, then He should have the power to give."

"Life and death is His to take, yes... but not His to control. That power is exclusive only to us. He is merely our home and watcher, our protector and advisor. That is the way He has always been."

"Regulus," Kalila's voice called.

Regulus glanced up and saw his sparklinghood friend looking down at him. He glanced away, not wanting to face her. He had hurt her enough as it was. He couldn't bear to face her, not after what had nearly just occurred on the top of the surface.

"Regulus, it's ok," Kalila cooed gently. "There's no shame in what you've done. Maybe your father knew his time had come and wanted to make sure that you were prepared for the future. You just refused to accept that fact. Please, Regs. We need you... I need you."

Regulus glanced in her direction, his face tear-stained, then at Rifiki. His people needed him, but he didn't want to lead them to their deaths. He had already caused his father's death, and now it was bound to happen again.

"I can't..." he whispered.

"You can," a voice that wasn't Rifiki's boomed from the ground itself.

Regulus jumped at the voice, glancing around in shock. Kalila acted like she hadn't heard it, meaning that the voice was only talking to him and only him.

"The burden is heavy, Regulus, but many shoulders bear it. You do not lead alone," the voice called out, strong and deep. "Of all those who call themselves Autobot support this weight. But you are the one who shall keep their shoulders strong."

"But what can I do?" Regulus asked. "How can I lead my people without resulting in their deaths? If I lead them, then... I don't know what to do."

"Death cannot be controlled. To try to prevent death is to try and keep your own spark from stopping. To think it is to cover your mind in a cloud. You may fear what your actions may cause, but many results will be hard if you do nothing."

Regulus sighed. Despite the voice telling him that some things were just out of hand, he still felt unsure about how he could lead. "If I led, then how would I know what to do without the Matrix? All the Primes led through the Wisdom of the Ages and also through their instincts. What makes me any different?"

"The Matrix is merely a tool. An insight... the true power of the Primes comes from within."

The young mech trembled. "But I'm nothing like my father!" he started shouting. "I am nothing like him! How can I lead my people when all everyone wants is for me to lead them during a time of crisis? I... I'm not worthy. I don't deserve anything."

"No, you are not Optimus Prime... You are Regulus Prime."

"I can't lead... I don't know how..."

"You can. It is in your spark, energon AND mind. You just need to search for it."

"How?" Regulus asked. "I'm... I'm scared."

"Fear can be overcome when you have others on your side. Look to them just as Optimus looked to his men for help."

Regulus hesitated. Inside, he was afraid, outside he wanted to continue arguing. He wanted nothing more than to deny his given path, the path that had been chosen for him by Primus. He wanted to turn away from the loss of his father, forget about his destiny that had been weaved into his genetic coding from the moment he was sparked. But the more he wanted to turn away, the more the voice's power seemed to draw him back towards the path he had tried so desperately to stay away from. His fear began to ebb away, but not his want to be his own self, to be free from the shadow that was his father's. But it seemed that no matter what he did, no matter where he went, his father's influence on the people around him were expecting him his only son to walk in his father's footsteps.

Sighing for the last time, he soon came to a realisation that he was never going to be free. He would have to try, no matter how much it hurt.

"I'll... I'll try. But what can I do to help my people? What must I do?"

"That, Regulus Prime, is what you must find out for yourself."

"I'll try, but please... don't call me by that title. I feel I don't deserve it. Not just yet."

"It is what your spark says to me, Regulus Prime. I can only address one by the name of their spark..." And with that, the voice sank back into the ground.

Regulus opened his optics and sighed when he realised that all had gone quiet and he found himself back in the chamber. It seemed like a lifetime had gone past during his discussion with the unusual voice. He glanced down at his hands and then back at Rifiki and Kalila, his hurt still wandering helplessly through his processor. He doubted he would ever get over the loss of his father nor live up to their expectations, but he promised that he would try and that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I... I spoke with Him..." he said, turning to the two femmes.

"I know... I heard all," Rifiki said, seeming very weak.

"You heard?" Regulus asked.

"Yes... I am... his audio receptors..."

She fainted.

Shocked, Regulus lunged forward to grab the old femme before she hit the ground. "Rifiki... are you alright?" he asked. "Rifiki!" He shook her gently as Kalila looked onwards, also shocked.

Rifiki switched her optics back online, but they gave off a faint glow. "I am old..." she wheezed. "But my life will stay strong... at least... until the time comes for you to lead."

"You will someday," Kalila replied, coming over and kneeling beside him to gently stroke his antenna.

"Yes... you may feel doubt, guilt... sadness... but they only hold back the true you," Rifiki said softly.

Regulus turned away, unsure how to respond. No matter what he said, the old femme was right. At the moment, he wasn't sure if he really was capable of leading. Sadness was all that still crept in his processor.

"Let it... fade from your... processor... For now... I must rest..."

"Of course," Regulus replied and gently lowered her chassis to the floor. He then stood up and headed back to the others with Kalila following close behind him. Kalila gently took his hand and their fingers intertwined with one another. Although he was scared to lead, Regulus knew that there was no one else who could take his father's place. At least no one, except him.

As Rifiki rested, a young tribeswoman stepped. She had two sparklings in her arms and was followed by a large cheetah-like cat-bot with a saddle on its back.

Regulus looked up and then at the sparklings, shocked to see such tiny life forms cradled in her arms. He had never seen anything so small in his entire life. He was a little frightened of the gigantic creature, but he quickly swallowed his nervousness and bowed his head to the tribeswoman.

The large cat-bot, surprisingly, was the first to greet him, and he did so by standing up on his hind legs and giving Regulus a hug by wrapping his forepaws around his shoulders.

The young mech blinked his golden optics in surprise, shocked by the gesture. But he accepted it without a hesitation; however he didn’t feel like hugging back right now. His own depression was still inside his systems.

The cat-bot seemed to be determined to get him to hug back, and started grooming Regulus’s antenna. Thankfully, he was stopped halfway by a firm tug on his saddle and the playful giggling of both sparklings.

“Cubs!” the creature barked happily, gathering them up in the little sling the petite femme had them in and nuzzling them.

“Vakasa,” the femme replied. “And that cat-bot who was hugging you is Numa’vi, but he prefers to go by the name Numa.”

“Your sparklings are beautiful,” said Regulus politely. “I’ve never seen children before.”

“Thank you,” replied Vakasa. “Their... fathers... were of your people

Numa wagged his tail and continued to attempt to lick Regulus, but once again, the young mech was not in a hugging mood. His hurt still lingered through his systems and he really wished that he did not feel like this. No matter where he went, no matter what he thought, the young mech would always be alone. He had father, no mother, no brothers or sisters, no uncles or aunties, not even cousins, grandparents or anyone else, just his friends.

“Are you alright, Regulus?” Vakasa asked, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on Regulus’s arm. Numa looked onward with concern and nuzzled the young mech’s side. “Your mind isn’t with you today, is it?”

“No,” Regulus answered sadly, “it’s not.”

“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Kalila asked. “If you’re still blaming yourself for what happened to your father –”

“You didn’t see what happened to my father!” Regulus suddenly snapped. “So many died on that horrible evening... even...” He turned his head away, tears threatening to fall again, but he summoned up his courage and turned back to face Vakasa. “I tried to grab the Matrix... but it was too late. My father’s body was destroyed. I... my father... He never had a chance.”

Numa, who had previously been lying at the feet of the group, now stood next to Regulus, acting as some giant encourager for the young mech, his head reaching up to the mech’s chest.

Regulus turned away, ashamed to face them. He couldn’t face them anymore. As if sensing his distress, Kalila came over and gently took a hold of his hand. He didn’t look at her. He just let his guilt consume him. His spark hurt so much. Kalila decided to explain to the shocked two.

“He tried to help Optimus, but he only ended up getting in the way.”

Numa nuzzled him, trying to be a source of comfort.

Regulus regathered himself, nodding his appreciation to Numa and Kalila. Sighing, he forced himself to smile and tried to forget about his frightened thoughts. Deciding to distract himself with something else, he then pointed to himself. “By the way, I’m... Regulus, leader of this group and the... son of Optimus Prime. Behind me is Kalila, my closest best friend. The tall one over there you see standing behind you is Sirius. And that’s Arcturex standing right next to him.” But before they could say anything, he held up a hand. “And don’t call me a Prime... I’m not worthy of that name yet.”

Numa put his head on the mech’s chest in reassurance, simply being there for him as he did with Vakasa all those years ago. He looked down, however, when on the femme’s young children wandered free, gazing up at the newcomers with wide green optics.

Regulus gently petted Numa on the head, doing his best to reassure himself. He still felt depressed on the inside and trying to explain to his people what was going on was complicated enough as it was. While he wasn’t alone, he still felt that it was his burden to bear alone. He was now their hope, their salvation. He was the Son of Prime, he believed himself to be the last of the Primes, the last of the bloodline of heroes of the past.

He watched as the sparklings played with the Autobot sparklings, they rolled and chased each other around the chamber and the energon pools while the mothers looked on with smiles of content on their faces.

“This peace will not last long,” he said aloud without thinking.

“Then we shall go to war... if it means protecting the last of us,” Rifiki said, suddenly appearing before them from one of the inner chambers.

Regulus jumped and turned to face her. “Go to war?” he asked, shocked. “I know I promised I would lead my people to a better life, but I didn’t say that I would lead them into war.”

“It is a last resort,” she whispered, a staff now in her two hands. “Even if it means finishing what our ancestors started long ago. But either way... this must end one way or another. Cybertron itself is pounding under our feet... calling us to its protection.”

Regulus sighed and glanced over at the sparklings playing together, a sudden feeling of need to protect came to his inner being, telling him he must protect life no matter what the cost. He closed his optics for a moment, listening to the inner voice inside of him. He then opened his optics again and nodded firmly.

“Then we will, but I have an idea that might help us. We could perhaps attack them bit by bit, little by little. Not enough to actually kill them, but enough to give them a message that we are still alive and fighting. That we will never give up fighting.”

Rifiki smiled warmly, her face showing what her optics could not. “And my people shall help.”

“You... you want to help?” Regulus asked. “But... you can’t transform. What can you do to help?”

She smirked slightly, withdrawing her massive blades from a cloth sheath on her back. “We are hunters,” she said firmly. “We can fight easily.”

As if to emphasis her words, Numa stood up to his full height, bearing a set of teeth that would put a shark to shame, raptor like claws scraping the ground.

“Then we will fight... together.” Regulus looked over towards his fellow Autobots. If he was convinced to fight, then he would have to convince the rest of the others to fight alongside him. But would they want to fight to defend themselves and take back what was rightfully theirs... their home?

“When do we attack?” was all Rifiki had to ask, knowing her people would prepare themselves at a moment’s notice.

Regulus’s gaze never shifted from his people and friends. He knew his friends would forever follow him towards the edge of the universe and back to Cybertron. He turned back to Rifiki and replied, “As soon as I can find more individuals that are willing to fight. When the time is right, we will strike without warning. But first, we have to know what we are attacking.”

Rifiki nodded. “There is a mech, Vakasa’s father-in-law, who is a former Decepticon. He can tell you all there is to know about the enemy.”

The young mech frowned. “A Decepticon? Here?”

“Yes, his name is Adra. His sons, the fathers of Vakasa’s two children... are Decepticon/Autobot hybrids. A heal in the rift if you will.”

Regulus felt a wave of disdain overcome him, but he quickly disregarded it before someone noticed it. He really, really didn’t trust Decepticons. Not after what happened earlier. “A Decepticon is what resulted in the loss of Iacon...” he said, his tone holding a hint of venom.

“I am aware of that,” said the old femme, although she gave no sign that she had detected his disdain, “and Adra’s past is very dark... but he realised that. That is why he came here with his sons, to flee the darkness. It still haunts him, but his spark is in the right place now. I would have not allowed him down here if he had ill intentions.”

Regulus grunted, “Show me where he is.”

She chuckled, now speaking to Vakasa’s sparklings. They giggled and trotted down another hallway, eventually returning with a massive, grey and black mech. His form was much like Megatron’s, but older, worn and covered in a tattered red cape. His face was stern and pulled into a slight scowl, but softened right away when his grandchildren crawled up into his arms.

Regulus did his best to conceal his huge dislike for Decepticons, despite the old femme’s promise that he had no ill intention. Instead, he decided it was best that he kept his trap shut until he felt the moment was right to talk without showing his disgust for something that was responsible for killing his only family.

Adra noticed him right away, and spoke directly to the Prime in a deep, rumbling voice, something like a sword humming along his thick back. “Feh, so you’re Prime’s descendent... didn’t expect you to be only a kid.” He shook his head. “You’re barely older than my sons...” There was an edge of sadness in his voice that reflected the sorrow that Regulus spoke when mentioning his father.

“A kid?” Regulus snapped angrily, no longer caring for his disdain anymore. “I might be young, but I’m smart enough to understand loss!” Tears streamed down his optics as he fought back against the dam that was breaking slowly. “What could you possibly know about loss? I lost the only family I ever knew and all you care about is comparing me to my own father?”

“I lost both of my sons,” Adra said, expression pulling into a deep sneer that almost scarred his whole face. “They died protecting Vakasa, before those two here were even sparked. She would have been lost to them too if I hadn’t kept my own head during those hard times. Just because you lost your dear old daddy and a few family members doesn’t mean you know what true pain is.”

Regulus frowned, his face pulling into a look of anger. “Then I don’t see the point in me asking for your Primus-damn help!” he snarled. “If you care for your sons and your daughter-in-law, then you ought to know that they will die too if don’t help us...”

He took a few steps back.

“But since I am forced to trust something that has left a stain upon something I’ve struggled for orns to get out of, then what point is there in leading?”

“What point is there in trusting me?” Adra growled. “Maybe none, but at the moment I’m the only way of finding out what you need to know without risking to send out a scouting party to spy on Decepticons.” He stepped forward with powerful footfalls, tugging his cape to show his heavily scarred body. “These are battle hardened warriors we’re dealing with here, and a grief-stricken Prime is the last thing these people need right now. How do I know if I can trust you to lead these people? Lead my daughter-in-law?”

He leaned in, directly over the young mech.

“Frankly, I don’t trust you, but right now these people need a leader. I don’t give a flying slag if you hate me or not, but I will give my life to protect what I still have left. And if it means following an unwilling Prime into battle then so be it.”

“Fine, you do that,” Regulus spat, doing his best to hold his ground. “I don’t care if you hate me or if I hate you. Either way, we’re going to be doing things together until the bitter end. But I’ll live with that until your sorry, scarred carcass is lying offline.” He then frowned again. “Compare me to my father again or even think about harming my people and I... won’t hesitate to blow your head off of those shoulders of yours. Clear?”

Kalila sighed as she watched the two make a standoff. “Regulus...” She wanted to help him so badly, but something told her that he would have to go it alone. To be a leader, he had to do things on his own, even if it meant sitting idly by and watching from the sidelines.

Then Adra did something he was sure Regulus was not expecting. He laughed. Not mockingly, but deep and good natured, admiring. “Feh, never mind. You aren’t really like your father, you’re more like my own boys. I haven’t been talked back to like that since they were alive,” he chuckled, hollowly and sad at the memory.

“I’m no leader and never have been.” He poked the young mech’s gently. “But I know that any good leader knows how to stand up for himself, even against his own men.”

“That... was a test?” Regulus asked, bewildered by the laughter and the admiration.

“Partly,” Adra chuckled again. “But mostly I tend to judge people based on how much backbone they have and you certainly have plenty of it.”

“I... I guess I should say... thanks?” Regulus shook his head, still shaken by his need to stand up for himself and for his people. He just let himself be lost to his need to protect, that was all he did. “But you will help us right? I don’t think all of my people have the qualities to fight against a whole army of Decepticons. We have so few who can. Arcturex, Kalila, Sirius, and myself. We are the only ones who have the skills to fight.”

“Of course,” Adra smiled, however rough it seemed. “I have, after all, trained most of Mother’s people to fight. Just tell me what you need to learn, boy.”

“Everything,” was Regulus’s only response.

Adra nodded firmly. “Come then. You’ll need weapons first and foremost.” Rifiki took it from there, leading them far below the surface with Adra there to explain. “There’s a huge store of Cybertronium in these caves and radiation hotspots hot enough to be used as forges. They aren’t blasters, but these people know how to make weapons like you wouldn’t believe.”

Regulus nodded, listening as hard as he could as he realised that Sirius and Arcturex had joined him and Kalila as they made their way down. “We’d have to teach them how to use weapons. But I once heard a saying: ‘A weapon doesn’t make the mech. It’s the mech that makes the weapon.’ That means we’d also have to teach them how to fight in hand-to-hand combat, correct?”

“Exactly,” Adra replied, nodding, “and I know how to do that quite well.” The scarring across his body spoke well for that.

Regulus blinked his optics, looking at the scars in amazement. He knew his father had plenty of scars from the last known Great War, but they were not as amazing as Adra’s. Each one told a story about how he fought for his life or how he braved the conflicts of long ago. Still, the young mech could not help but admire them. He looked down at his hands and realised they were tattered and covered up in dried up energon. He didn’t remember much of what had happened, but he knew that he had held on tightly to his dying father before he had been forced to turn away.

“Then perhaps,” he said, “you could teach me a few things on how to fight properly. I never really learned much in how to do it.”

“Then we’ll start here,” Adra said, cracking his massive knuckles. He took the saw-toothed sword from his back and placed it against the wall. “When it comes to hand-to-hand combat, learning how to fight anywhere, especially in closed spaces like this, comes with interesting results.”

Regulus blinked in surprise at the old mech that stood before him. He glanced around worriedly, fearing that things may go wrong if this turned out really bad for him or Adra. But still, the young mech knew better than to be afraid of anything, but the thoughts from before lingered at the back of his mind. He sighed as the confusion settled into his mind, and, out of habit, decided to ask away questions just to avoid confrontation.

“Right now?” he asked Adra, confused. “We... alright I guess.”

He made a motion with his hand to Kalila to go and take care of the others. The young femme nodded from the sidelines, Sirius and Arcturex standing by just in case. Regulus emitted a deep sigh and charged for Adra with speed he had never had never even used before, hoping to at least catch him off guard.

Adra was slow in body, but not in mind. He saw the boy coming for him and moved his arm up to block and deflect.

The young mech took a few steps backwards, surprised. He really needed to come up with a better tactic than this. Frowning, he let off a swift punch towards Adra’s midsection.

The punch landed, but it was like a human punching a tractor tyre. There was no give.

“I don’t understand,” Regulus breathed as he stood back to recover. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re punching at the wrong spot, kid,” Adra snorted. “Aim for the face if you want to bring down a mech as big as me with a mere punch.”

“How is that supposed to knock you out?” Regulus asked. “You’re taller than me by that much.”

“Jump,” Adra said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Regulus sighed and decided to try a different tactic. He charged again, but this time, he used his speed to at least move to the side and attack from the right. He aimed a punch at the side of Adra’s head.

“Darn it, kid, aim for the face!” Adra barked, grabbing Regulus’s arm and holding him up off his feet. “No armour there, got it? Optics are vulnerable at best, so remember that.”

“Right, I’m forgetful sometimes,” Regulus laughed nervously, looking a little embarrassed. He then leapt as high as he could, his fist aiming for the optics of his opponent, optics blazing with determination to get this right.

Adra dodged backwards at the last moment, grinning slightly. “Good, good,” he praised. “You’ve got good form, but a little too predictable.”

“Then how can I get unpredictable?” Regulus asked, stepping back to recover.

“Then teach me everything there is to know,” Regulus demanded. “I have to know almost everything if I am to lead my people to their freedom. I can’t let them down, not when they’re counting on me to be their... their hope.”

Adra smiled, almost gently, and nodded. “Good, now come at me! Put that determination to work!”

Regulus took a deep breath, thinking long and hard on this. He had to make this count, to make his own skills and abilities part of himself. He remembered his father used his wits and brute strength to overpower his enemies. If Regulus was to lead, then he would have to be faster, stronger, and faster than before. He had to! Gritting his dental plates together, he charged again. But instead, he did a couple of summersaults and kicked out with his feet, his heels connecting with Adra’s midsection and sending him stumbling backwards.

Adra grunted roughly with the impact, having to lean against the wall to keep himself stable. “Good,” he praised. “I’ve never seen an improvement that quickly before.”

“I remember my father once told me to use my wits to the best of my abilities,” Regulus explained. “He told me to adapt or it will result in my destruction.”

“Exactly, and that’s true now more than ever,” Adra said, standing up again. “It’s like hunting; you have to keep track of your prey.”

“And that is what I’ll do. I must get stronger for them... for Kalila, for Primus and Cybertron.” Regulus sighed sadly and chewed his bottom lip, struggling to hold back his guilt again.

Adra stepped forward, towering over him. “But most of all, you have to be aware of where you are.”

“No more tears,” Regulus told himself. “No more time for wallowing in depression.” He gathered himself again and charged once more, but he did not go straight ahead. Instead, he rushed to the sideline and lashed out with one of his legs, kneeing Adra in the shin.

Adra winced and buckled slightly, but sprang back and pushed his leg back against Regulus’s, throwing the younger mech off balance.

Regulus fell on his back, landing with a heavy thud. Dazed, he struggled to get back onto his feet. He had a feeling he was going to be sore the next day, but the pain would be worth it. Adra lashed out again, not waiting for Regulus to get up and grabbed the younger mech, hauling him off his feet. “Got to learn to recover faster than that,” he commented.

“I was dazed!” was the young mech’s only response.

“You’ll be a lot more dazed with shells going off around you, laser flying above your head and an opponent who’s hell bent on seeing your spark gone,” Adra said, not sugar-coating it.

Regulus shoved one of Adra’s hands off him and head butted him right in the face. “I also know how to get out situations when being handled like a ragdoll,” he smirked.

The old mech grinned, wiping a smear of energon from the corner of his lips. “Can’t always rely on that though,” he said. “By the time an enemy may have a hold on you, you could already be dead.” He grabbed the smaller mech and pinned him to the wall with a knee to the belly.

Regulus struggled against the taller mech’s grip, almost feeling the need to cough up energon. Remembering that in situation like this, he would be dead in a flash or in the blink of an optic. He had to think of something and fast before he was turned into diced metal. He reacted without warning by grabbing Adra’s leg and, using his inexperienced strength, flipped the older mech onto his back. He leapt on him and pinned him to the floor with one hand on his throat and the other holding down his arms, and his legs holding down Adra’s lower body.

But Adra was a big mech, and with a strong enough heave, he had Regulus forced back enough to get free. It was then that he started getting rough, swinging a huge fist into the back of one shoulder.

Still being injured from earlier on during the escape and still low on energy, Regulus winced in pain. His shoulder burned with agony as Adra punched his tender spot. Gritting his dental plates again, he threw back his head and kneed Adra in the midsection.

Adra let out a hiss, but the pain only seemed to make him move faster. A kick finding itself square in the middle of Regulus’s chest.

Too much, it was all too much for him! Regulus just wanted to scream, beg for his life. But he couldn’t even breathe anymore. He let loose a flurry of punches at Adra’s face, remembering to aim for the optics. His fingers scraped across the older mech’s optics, scratching them slightly. Instinct took over and he gathered his legs close to his body and kicked out again, removing Adra from his body.

Adra pushed away from him hard, snarling and squinting badly to keep his optics from being damaged. This resulted in a half-blind backhand that knocked aside one arm. Regulus managed to get back to his feet, rolling to one side in an attempt to get away. His blows were becoming desperate now. It was as though he was no longer fighting to train. Was he fighting for his life now?

That was when Adra knew to back away, holding up a battered hand for the session to stop.

The young mech stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing heavily laboured. In his exhaustion, Regulus got down on his hands and knees, his body dripping with beads of oil.

“That’s enough,” said Adra. “There’s not much point in this lasting if you get to the point where you stop learning.” He helped Regulus to his feet.

“I... I couldn’t stop,” Regulus sighed as he stood up. “I... I thought I was fighting for my life, not for the sake of training.”

“Hm, that’s another to keep in mind; is how to keep yourself sane,” Adra said, as if it took him many years to learn just that.

Regulus nodded, wiping the exhaustion from his forehead, the oil beads leaving their trails upon his forearm. “So what now?” he asked without thinking.

“For now, we find your weapon.”

“Right,” Regulus replied, following the elder mech.

Adra picked up his sword along the way, showing it to Regulus. “This here is Oden, a semi sentient axe forged from the part of my own spark. That’s how you’ll be making yours.”

“Yes,” replied Adra. “It is a rite of passage for these people. One weapon per person only and that weapon stays with them for their entire lives.”

“But... how do I forge it?” Regulus asked.

“The process if painful, but Mother will show you.” Adra placed the axe against his back again, the living weapon attaching itself like a symbiotic creature.

“The pain will be worth it,” Regulus said gravely.

Adra smiled. “I know. Oden has saved many lives... to counter the many I took.” He shook his head to clear it. “But I warn you, the weapon can be destroyed and after that, you cannot make another.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to create something that will save my life.”

“The only thing you have to do is pull out a piece of your spark, the cybertronium will do the rest,” Rifiki said, appearing beside them.

Regulus laughed a little nervously. “Uh, you seem to have an awful habit of appearing from out of the blue.”

Rifiki chuckled, “More like from the ground.”

Eventually, Kalila, Arcturex, and Sirius approached. The three friends cast worried glances at their friend, who smiled reassuringly at them. He knew they had been worried about him, knowing that the loss of his father had hurt him more than he could bear, but he would live with the pain for as long as long as it took.

“What’s going on?” Arcturex asked.

“Rifiki is going to show me how to forge a weapon from my spark,” Regulus replied.

“Indeed, your friends must come too. They will need weapons as well.”

“We get weapons from our sparks too?” Sirius asked joyfully. “Cool!”

Regulus shot the jet-bot a look that demanded him to keep his attitude to himself. He might be old friends with him, but he really wished that Sirius would take things seriously. He just rolled his optics and sighed, “Let’s get this over with.” Then he winked at Adra. “I just hope the process isn’t as painful as it sounds.”

“Painful?” Sirius asked, shocked. “It’s not going to kill us, is it?”

“No, no,” reassured Rifiki. “Even younglings can do it once they reach a certain age.” She chuckled softly. “But of course, most know how to be careful around their sparks on instinct.”

“I do not!” Sirius growled, tackling Regulus to the ground and wrestling with him. “You take that back!”

“Nope!” Regulus laughed. “You’re going to have to force me to.” He then wriggled free from his friend’s grasp and raced off down the passageway, laughing as Sirius gave chase. The taller mech suddenly powered the plasma burners in his feet and tackled Regulus to the ground again. “Come on, Sirius. You punch like a femme!”

“Heh, he’s so much like my sons,” Adra said, smiling as warmly as his scarred face would allow. Rifiki was having a good laugh at the rough display between the two friends, clearly glad to see a glimmer of joy in Regulus’s optics again.

“Should we break them up?” Arcturex asked worriedly.

Kalila shook her head, smiling. “Nah,” she replied. “Let Regulus have his fun. I haven’t seen him so happy since the attack.”

“Indeed.” Rifiki was still laughing. “Oh, youth these days!”

Sirius continued to throw light punches at Regulus, but the young mech blocked them all with lightning speed and threw counterpunches of his own. Regulus then wriggled free from his friend’s grasp and raced back to the group, but not before Sirius flew through the air again in an attempt to hold him down. But Regulus rolled his optics and sidestepped him. Sirius shot across the chamber and landed head first into the wall.

“I’ll get you, Regs!” Sirius bellowed from within the rock in a non-threatening manner. “By Primus’s spark, I will get you!”

By now even Adra had thrown his head back and laughed, a sound that boomed through the tunnels like a bass drum.

Regulus trotted back to the group, covered in dirt and a little battered from their playful wrestling. By then, Sirius had managed to get himself free from his predicament and was shooting death glares at the smaller mech. Regulus smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Now that we are done playing,’ he said a little seriously, “shall we go now?”

“Yes, we shall,” Rifiki giggled, motioning with one arm while the others held her sides and mouth from all of the laughing she did.

As they walked through the chambers, Sirius was still giving Regulus glares that promised him humiliation someday, but the young Son of Prime hardly paid any attention. Regulus decided that if Sirius was going to get revenge, he was going to have to be prepared for anything. After all, he did learn that he had to be aware of everything or anything. Kalila only giggled at the sharp retorts the two friends threw at each other, while the ever shy Arcturex only snickered.

Rifiki led them down to the inner chambers, a massive radiation hotspot that glowed a small sun deep in the metal at their feet. “Watch yourself, these metals are partly melted and will hurt,” she warned.

Regulus carefully placed his footing as carefully as he was instructed. He gently took Kalila’s hand and led her safely through the burning hotspot. Excitement began to flow through each of their sparks, pulsing with determination and a need to do what they believed was the right thing to do.

The old femme smiled, walking directly into one of the hotter spots, pulling out a chunk of molten metal for each of them.

They took hold of the metal carefully in their hands, watching the old femme carefully and listening for instructions as hard as they could.

“Open your spark chambers, and with this knife, carefully slice as big as part a part as you think you need. Don’t worry about accidentally hurting yourself, your body will seize up and keep you from doing that if your blade gets too close to the core,” Rifiki explained. “Then once you have your piece, bury it inside the metal and hold on tightly.”

Regulus and his friends did so, opening up their spark chambers and carefully inserting a knife into their sparks. Then, being as gently as they could, they placed the pulsing sparks into the metal and they waited.

The metal morphed in and around their hands like clay, each forming a weapon completely unique to them.

Sirius’s had split in half, forming twin hand-held short swords and curled in the middle of the blade. Kalila’s formed a single long sword, her name carved into her long blade. Arcturex’s became a katana, but more curved in the middle. And Regulus’s turned into twin, wrist held short swords. The four friends glanced at their weapons, picking them up carefully and admiring the beautiful elements contained within the hilts and blades.

Regulus’s swords attached themselves to his wrists, becoming part of him and capable of being deployed through his will like his father’s. He frowned slightly, but said nothing. While he loved his gift his spark had given him, he still didn’t think he could become someone as great as his father once was.

“Good, you both are ready. You will need no training for the weapons. They will wield as well as you move your arms and legs,” Rifiki said, inspecting each of them.

“We will use them well,” Regulus said, putting his weapons away.

Rifiki smiled. “Come then, let us eat. The rest of the tribe will be waiting for us.”

Regulus and the other three nodded, once again following after the old femme. Each of them was lost to their own thoughts. Regulus still wondered what was to become of himself and the others now that they were bound to fight another war that they had not seen for three millennia. Still, if there was anything to be done and to get things underway, then he knew that several things must happen first.

Adra and Rifiki talked a long time as they reached the dining area, each talking about if they ever had enough people to face these Decepticons.

As they approached, Regulus sighed underneath his breath, thinking that they needed to find more who more than willing to fight against the Decepticons and take back their home. He frowned.

Perhaps there was.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thought, ‘we will find more survivors.’ He glanced at his friends and then back at the mechs and femmes who were gathered together to eat, talk and relax. For now, he could not worry about tomorrow. Now was the time to find peace with himself.